I’ve been wanting to ask you, Do you remember what I said at your wedding? Once you’d exchanged vows by banjo and your parents cried through their speeches; after Hava Nagila, when you and your bride flew on chairs. Later, when I’d blistered my feet dancing in heels, started telling big stories with flying hands. Later, when I took pictures with people I’d only just met and planned to visit their cities—but what I said, Saul, it was later than that, when you cut cake with your darling, and she smeared it up to your eyebrows. Later, much later, when we all heard a groomsman, having crept off, empty his stomach onto the sea rocks. And we laughed, willed sickness away, went headlong into a humming numbness, the wind whipping us in June off the Maine coast, dancing hard to Beat It
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the trees react to colder nights by stripping naked
the meadow too
it’s as if they’re about to set off somewhere
all excess baggage is left at the gate
the sun too is a budget traveler
abandoning most of the sky
the days are so quiet now
take me with you
even if there’s nowhere to go
even if it means leaving myself behind
-Dave Bonta, Gnarled Oak
Yoshitaka Kashima does some of the most gorgeous casual urban photography I’ve seen: mesmerizing, magical snapshots of Japan’s alleys, bookstores, subways.
Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one. – Japanese proverb
I tend the mobile now
like an injured bird.
We text, text, text
our significant words.
I re-read your first,
your second, your third,
look for your small xx,
The codes we send
arrive with a broken chord.
I try to picture your hands,
their image is blurred.
Nothing my thumbs press
will ever be heard.
With but his red to woo her,
in a courtship of minutes,
he captured her jackhammer heart.
For three years, with each
never losing sight of the other,
they’ve wrapped countless presents
of tree and sky with the scissor-
curled ribbons of their flight,
managing, with nothing
but the cap-pistol firepower
of their BB-sized brains,
two lifetimes of devotion.
-Larry D Thomas, Right Hand Pointing
When I fall in love again I will have another heart
and a second set of eyes which is one way
to watch the woman you love grow old
The story of my heartbreak started like this:
someone gave me a key that opens many doors
I traded it for a key that opens only one
I traded that one for another and that for another
until there were no more doors
and I had a fist full of keys
At any given moment only part of the world is gruesome
There are three pomegranates in the fridge
waiting to be broken open
When I fall in love again
my beloved and I will spit seeds into the street
-Patrick Rosal in Wax Wing Magazine